


200 Followers Celebratory Prompt-A-Thon

by scandalsavage



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham Knight Genesis (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, ArkhamKnight!Jason, Biting, Choking, Collars, Come Swallowing, Consensual Non-Consent, Double Penetration, Dragon!Slade, Foot Jobs, Lich!Roman, M/M, Oral Sex, Restraints, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery, Spitroasting, Tentacle Sex, Vampire!Bruce, demon!Ra's, human slave robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-04 19:52:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: Brief fics based on prompts from followers onMy Tumblr.Each chapter is a different thing with different ratings and notes. I'll update pairings, tags, ect. as I go. Check the chapter notes for specifics.





	1. Slade/Jason Arkhamverse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit: dark themes, consensual non-consent, the sex here IS 100% consensual, mentions of past object insertion and gun play.

“Ah—jesus, Slade… what the—what the fuck are you doing?”

“Shut up,” the mercenary growls, twisting his fingers to jab at Jason’s prostate harshly, drawing out a pleasured yelp, “You know the deal when you come to me.”

He’s got the kid sprawled out beneath him, blindfolded, each elbow tied tightly to the corresponding knee, blunt nails scratching at the cold metal of the Cobra tank Slade’s just unveiled.  

He takes a moment, again, just like every previous time, to marvel at the psychology behind this boy enjoying being pinned down, tied up, and fucked brutally while powerless and served on a platter. He’s seen the video evidence of the torture the Joker put him through, coaxed more out of Jason in the year since than the kid is probably comfortable with, and suspects there’s more he’ll never say.

Ok, ‘enjoying’ may not be the right word. More than once Slade’s seen the tears Jason tries to hide and knows they’re not for the present, knows they’re not shed in any physical pain or desire to stop the encounter. But he also knows that they’re not tears of joy or bliss.

And ‘powerless’ is definitely the wrong word. Jason pays good money and, when paid, Slade’s loyalty is absolute until the contract is fulfilled. The kid is an A+ employer, even without the bonus deal, always pays up front, on time, and in full. In some ways, that transaction makes him the only person the broken bird trusts. The whole reason they have a safe word is because the first time Jason said ‘stop’ Slade had done so immediately… to the younger man’s abject frustration (and embarrassment). So the boy isn’t _powerless_. All he has to say is ‘Sherlock’ and Deathstroke will back off.

He’s never said it. Not when Slade shoved the hilt of his sword into him. Not when he made the kid blow his gun. Not once.

Slade knows that what Jason gets out of this is not something he can understand. He’s never been laid low the same way the ex-Robin has, never had _everything_ stolen from him, never been forced into anything, never had his mind fucked with. He doesn’t know how he would react if it ever happened, how he’d handle it. But he doubts it’d be in a way anyone would consider healthy.

So when Jason comes to him, needs this from him, the deal is Slade uses him like a toy, however he wants, as long as Jason feels like he’s being forced to take it.

But Slade’s not, by nature, the type of cruel that people seem to believe of him. He won’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy this. The flushed body laid out for him like a gift, muscles chiseled from marble glistening with sweat from exertion, the bruises left by his fingers and the ropes.

However, he feels the urge, occasionally, rarely, to fix his broken toy.

So he’s been slowly working up to this. Jason’s still getting what he needs. He’s still ‘helpless’ and at Slade’s mercy. But unlike their past trysts which were rough and violent and cold, Slade is taking his time.

He’s been fingering the kid’s tight, pink hole for ten minutes, poking and rubbing at that sensitive little gland, adding more and more lube making him wet and sloppy, occasionally rolling his balls in his free hand or stroking the delicate length of skin of Jason’s taint, watching the furled rim stretch open as his fingers disappear inside him and spread wide.

And now the big, bad Arkham Knight is trembling under Deathstroke’s meticulous attentions, gasping and moaning prettier than any whore.

Slade feels a harsh swell of possessiveness and he realizes that he’d have this kid’s back (in both senses) even if he didn’t pay him.

He pulls his fingers out when Jason comes with a shout. He presses in, watching as his cock is swallowed hungrily by the slick heat of that enticing hole, shiny and dripping lube. Then he starts a slow, languid pace, fucking into the lost Robin as deep as he can get.

Not that he’ll ever _tell_ Jason that he can get Deathstroke’s services for free, of course.


	2. Robins/Villains Fantasy AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampire!Bruce/robinpile referenced, Demon!Ra’s/Tim, Dragon!Slade/Dick, Lich!Roman/Jay
> 
> Rating: Mature; slavery; I say ‘cock’ and ‘fuck into’ exactly once apiece

“Excuse me?” Bruce snarls, putting his fangs on display.

The hubris of their ‘request’ is unprecedented. But even as the rage boils deep in his chest, Bruce knows his options are limited. All three of these men are older than him, powerful and dangerous leaders of their race. And while he’s fought them off successfully in the past, together, united as they seem to be, they would end him easily. Then there would be nothing to stop them.

“You heard perfectly,” the demon, Ra’s al Ghul, drawls darkly, “Surely you see the folly in denying us.”

The other two ‘men’ smirk and Bruce scowls at the unlikely alliance. He grips the three titanium chains tighter as he stands and moves away from his throne, brushing past the beautiful human pets he keeps leashed by his side to sate his blood lust. And his general lust.

The objects of the other creatures desires.

As he closes the space between them Bruce feels the heat radiate off Slade to his right only to be lost in the black hole of icy cold surrounding Roman on his left. The dragon and the lich are natural enemies. That they stand before him, joined by envy, is a testament to the demon’s powers of persuasion.  

Bruce ignores them, focuses on Ra’s. They’d been allies once, centuries ago. Now the demon makes regular attempts to steal Gotham from him, as though the haven for vampires Bruce built could be so easily acquired.

“Are you threatening me?” he says, his voice the low rumble of an earthquake.

“Was I too subtle about it?” Ra’s retorts, smiling viciously, “If you don’t give us what we’ve asked for, we’ll kill you and take it anyway.”

He doesn’t see a way out and ultimately, no human is worth dying for.

Some humans have a presence, an aura that is alluring to the supernatural. Bruce knew he was being greedy, keeping three of the most tempting specimens in his thrall. He’d known someone would come sniffing after them eventually.

Bruce glances back at the boys. All dark haired, glazed eyes various shades of blue, pouty lips parted. He likes them simply attired, nothing gaudy or flashy. They each wear slave cuffs around their wrists and ankles, connected by a long chains that allow them to move but are a reminder of their place at the Vampire king’s feet, should they ever come out from under his spell enough to question it. The metal leashes in Bruce’s hand are attached to a collar at each boy’s throat the same shade as the gauzy, shear skirts slung low on their hips, in the color that flatters each most.

The oldest, Dick, long and lean and draped in sky blue, is the one the dragon’s had his eye on since the boy was a child. The second, Jason, taller and broader than his older ‘brother’, wears red the same bright, angry hue as the glowing, deep set, embers of eyes in the skeletal, black mask that passes for Roman’s face. Tim, the youngest, small, slight, and delicate in a soft, sunny, yellow had caught Ra’s’s fancy not long after Bruce had… procured him from a rival vampire lord.

He turns to face the insurgence before jerking the leads, causing the boys to stumble off the dais, and storming off to the door that leads to the harem chambers.

“One night,” he growls, knowing they’re following, “You’ll not wander from their room.”

Then he spins on his heels and shoves a finger in the lich’s face, “And _no_ permanent damage.”

 

* * *

 

This is going much better than Ra’s thought it would, if he’s honest with himself.

He expected Slade and Roman to be at each other’s throats but they seem to have forgotten the other exists while they worry at far more enticing throats. Slade sinking his sharp teeth into the blue one’s neck, drawing out pained whimpers while Roman’s icy grasp squeezes the red one, wet choking sounds audible over dark chuckles, as the dragon and the lich fuck into their prizes with careless abandon.

Ra’s keeps one eye on the others, in part to make sure they don’t damage Bruce’s property too badly, and in part because their needy violence makes him even harder. Even if his own preference is far less… brutish.

And he admires the way the moisture flees the blue one in the face of the dragon’s heat, lips dry and cracking even as his body is drenched in sweat; the way the red one shivers uncontrollably, his form taking on a slight blueish tint that almost matches his brothers now discarded garment, as the lich absorbs all the heat in the immediate vicinity.

Both sights are lovely, but neither is as mouth watering as the bruises blooming on the pale skin of the narrow waist beneath him. Ra’s allows a small tendril of his consciousness to take up residence in the little one’s mind, sees the compliance and expectation as he pulls the yellow one onto his cock, enjoying the way the boy’s eyes roll back and the soft moan that passes red, bitten, lips.

That’s the one good thing about vampires. These boys have been bread and trained for this, and no one does learned compulsion better than the bloodsuckers.

He looks around the room at his companions one more time and grins.

No. One night will not be satisfying any of them.


	3. Slade/Jason/Dick - Tentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit: Tentacles, loads of come

The difference in their reactions is telling.

Despite the fact that Slade has more in common with Jason, it’s Dick who knows him best.

That’s why, while Jason clasps a hand over his mouth and laughs so hard there’re tears beading in his eyes, Dick just stares at Slade with a hungry smile.

They, at least, are on the same page.

“Oh my god,” Jason heaves between laughing and gasping for air, “That is the most absurd, ridiculous, outrageously stupid thing I have ever seen. Ivy has _really_ upped her game. You should definitely not go out in public.”

Dick’s eyes twinkle as Slade shares a look with him. Jason has a way of walking into things.

Slade sends his new tentacle-like vines out to wrap around both boys and drag them to him. They both yelp, Jason in surprise and Dick in delight.

He lifts Jason up to hover close to his face, enjoying the effortless strength of his new appendages, and grins evilly.

“Oh I have no intention of going out,” he hums, watching Jason’s throat bob as he swallows, “Ivy said they’ll be gone by morning. I can think of much better things to do right here that will be a much more… amusing way to spend my time than anything out there.”

“Then get to it, big guy,” Dick teases with a breathy giggle as Slade let’s one of the tentacles dip into his sweatpants. As expected, he’s already on board.

Slade keeps his eye fixed on the one he’s not sure about. Jason glances to Dick who gives an encouraging nod.

“O…okay…”  

Slade can feel the boy’s heart thud in anticipation through the vine wrapped around his chest.

Good enough for him, he thinks and drags them both into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

This is easily the hottest thing they’ve ever done.

The tentacle vines are just as sensitive and responsive as his cock, he feels the same gut roiling heat of arousal. So he gets to sit back and watch the show while climaxing over and over again. They even spurt sticky, white fluid that Dick shamelessly licks up and says tastes just like Slade’s come.

And he has sixteen of these things so this has allowed him to indulge some of his more unlikely fantasies.

The boys are lying on their sides, facing each other, pressed together. One tentacle has all four wrists bound together above their heads. One of Slade’s favorite things about the batboys is their flexibility and with the vines to help keep them in place he’s got them folded in half, their legs spread wide to either side and pulled up as high as possible. Then another tentacle is wrapped around their waists, holding them flush against each other so that their erections and balls rub together with each movement, the slide made easier by the mess of their own previous orgasms.

They had originally been making out, messily licking Slade’s tentacle come off the other’s face (he made certain that all the vines securing them got off before they were relegated to bondage). But now they each have one tentacle fucking their throats and another caressing their lips impatiently awaiting their next turn.

Because they’ve going for about an hour now and all the vines have dumped multiple loads on or in the boys and they’re positively covered in the sticky mess. They have drank down more of his come today than they probably have in the couple years since they started this weird three-way thing.

There are twin looks of fucked out bliss on their flushed faces; eyes rolled back, drool dripping down their chins, muffled moans and whines escaping their full mouths. There are two tentacle vines stuffing each boy’s stretched hole at different paces, sometimes thrusting sometimes undulating, one fast and rough, one lazy and gentle. A third pokes and tugs at each entrance, testing the waters, carefully trying to work their way in too.

Slade will change their positions soon. Put them both on their hands and knees, asses up. Or maybe have one lie on his back and put the other on top so that all he sees are their open, willing holes. He’ll do both, obviously, he just has to pick which he wants first. They’re just getting started, after all. He plans on working them wider, stuffing them so full they gape open when empty, watch what come isn’t bulging their bellies spill back out of them.

Yeah. Slade is definitely getting Ivy to make more of this serum.


	4. Mpreg Ra'sJay - Gettin married, havin a baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE ASK: Ra's and Jay are getting married. Jay is pregnant and Ra's is old fashioned about not having a baby out of wedlock. And Jason agrees to get married because he is catholic and has been taught that he needs to get married. The NEWS media finds out out that Bruce’s second son is alive and getting married to an old rich and powerful guy. The family freaks when they see this on the NEWS and go to crash the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teen - some suggestive stuff

Damian looks smug.

That is how Ra’s knows this circus is his grandson’s doing.

Yesterday Talia had stormed into his hotel room, ignoring the fact that Ra’s was obviously occupied, and clicked on the television without a word.

Jason had choked in embarrassment at the sound of the door slamming and tried to scramble out from under the table. Ra’s had just tightened his grip in the thick, dark hair and held him close while he finished down his throat, then admired the way the way the scarlet, full body blush went perfectly with the boy’s little swollen belly as he hastily got off his knees and threw on a green and gold silk robe.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Jason had growled at Talia when it was clear Ra’s wasn’t going to say anything.

She’d just shot him a scowl and switched to a news station before crossing her arms and glaring at them.

“—big questions are, did Jason Todd fake his own death? Does Bruce Wayne know his son is alive? Does he know about the secret wedding to an affluent, seemingly much older man ? Is he trying to distance himself from the couple? And most importantly, who _is_ Ra’s al Ghul? Where does his immense wealth come from? And is that a baby bump we see hidden under that stylish leather jacket?”

As the woman spoke images flashed by, some better quality than others but all of Jason and Ra’s in various stages of intimacy from a simple, chaste touches of affection to scandalously close to inappropriate. And all in places where there had certainly been no reporters. One looked like the compound in Nanda Parbat and another was definitely the palace on Infinity Island. Places that, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, don’t exist.

Ra’s had narrowed his eyes. It was likely they had a traitor.

Jason’s mouth was already hanging open but when screen had switched to live coverage outside Wayne Tower as Bruce, glowering menacingly, left the building and snapped out several cool ‘no comments’, Jason’s eyes had bugged wide and he’d cursed.

“This is a nightmare,” Talia finally said, as she muted the television.

“Nonsense,” Ra’s had dismissed, “Contact the Vatican. Have them tell Francis we’ll need to move the ceremony up to tomorrow. And do it yourself. Then start looking into any of our people who knew about the wedding but didn’t know the location.”

“What does tha—“

“If they’d known where we were, there would be reporters all over the hotel. Now go.”

When he finally turned his attention back to his mate, Jason’s face was white and he looked like he was going to be sick.

“Do not worry, Beloved. This will not affect anything.”

Jason had shot him a skeptical frown. “Tomorrow isn’t soon enough. They’ll find us by then.”

Ra’s did not doubt that at all. But it wouldn’t do for Jason to take on any added stress.

He’d made the young man drink a cup of chamomile tea. Then he’d untied the robe, pushed him back onto the giant bed, and helped ease his mind.

But now, there are half a dozen reporters outside who have somehow managed to find them. And half a dozen angry blue eyes glaring at them from across a grand expanse of marble approximately the same age as Ra’s himself.

Not to mention the two, green of his grandson’s self-satisfied gaze.

“Ra’s. We need to speak,” Bruce’s voice is tight, and Ra’s notes the way Jason tenses slightly at the barely contained rage in his one-time mentor’s tone.

“About what, detective? The deed is done. Not that you would have had a say even if you had arrived in time.”

“Now,” the other man growls.

Ra’s sighs and follows him a small distance away.

“Oh my god it’s true!” He hears Grayson gasp, obviously trying and failing to keep his delight out of his voice. “You’re going to have a baby!”

Ra’s smirks at the way Bruce stops and goes completely rigid.

It’s not the reason Ra’s chose Jason. But the upsetting Batman is definitely a pleasant perk.


	5. Jason/Bizarro/Mystery Guest 1/Mystery Guest 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason/Bizarro/Guest 1/Guest 2 
> 
> I’m not spoiling it, you’ll have to read to find out.
> 
> If you really must know you can go to the note at the bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE ASKS:   
> 1) Uhhh, I don't know if I can ask for this but, no pressure, srsly just sending an idea, but I've always loved the idea of Jay getting double penetrated. :/ Is that possible? Slut for it Jay with two daddies inside???
> 
> 2)Can,,, we headcanon Jason as a cumslut? Like, a real cumslut—just begs for it. Loves feeling full, wears a plug to keep his daddies' cum all inside. He has multiple daddies, all who can keep his hole wet. Maybe breeding kink would be nice too? Imagine the filthy talk, "Feel that, sweetheart? Y'feel daddy filling you up? Get you nice and round, till you're leaking of it" or something like that... I feel like no one likes cumslut!Jay tho :(((

Jason tries to bite back the moan bubbling up his throat as Bizarro wiggles the big, nondescript black plug shoved into his already abused hole.

He’s been hanging here, bent at the waist, forever, alternating resting his weight on his legs and pulling himself up on the soft but sturdy leather ropes wrapped around his forearms keeping him dangling from the ceiling. Yesterday they visited individually to fuck him several times over the course of the day. But now, they come by, each on their own, to tease him. Pinching, poking, prodding, using his mouth, but never giving him what he really wants. What he’s aching for.

They’re so good at dragging things out that often, while he waits, he thinks he should find someone with slightly less control. Then they return and it’s always better than anything to come before.

“Are you certain?” Bizarro asks again. His voice has dropped even lower and Jason can practically feel the tension in the big guy’s muscles. He’s wearing him down.

Thank x’hal.

“Yes! Oh my god B, _please_ …” He’s pretty sure Bizarro catches the shudder that runs down his spine every time he calls him ‘B’ but he’s never been sure if the clone knows _why_.

“’Please’ what?” And now Jason knows he’s won, knows that husky, lust filled tone.

“Please, _daddy_ … touch me. _Fill me up, please_. I need your big, fat cock in me so fucking bad…” Every word comes out a breathy whine as he tries to wiggle his ass closer to where Biz stands behind him. And they’re the truest words he’s ever spoken.

“You’re still full from all the fun we had yesterday, my darling,” Bizarro hums, pressing one gigantic palm to Jason’s belly even as he pulls at the plug with the other.

When it slips free of him he lets his head drop and groans softly at the feel of their come dripping down the backs of his thighs. Losing even a little would make him sad but the weird semi-Kryptonian usually gave more in a single load than he could hold so he tries to be patient.

Jason loses that battle when, instead of the impossible girth of alien dick he wants so badly, all he gets is a couple fingers rubbing frustratingly soft little circles against his prostrate. He growls in annoyance, even though his own cock immediately starts leaking profusely.

“ _Please_ …” he begs after just a minute of the intimate massage.

“Patience, Red. Daddy has a surprise for you.”

Bizarro doesn’t refer to himself as ‘daddy’. There is only one person he calls that…

“I see you’ve started without me?” A cool, detached voice says from the direction of the door.

He sounds bored as he pours himself a glass of wine but Jason knows better. Moans desperately at the knowledge the older man’s eyes are on him. And with the knowledge of what Luthor will do him for ‘letting’ B touch him before he arrived.

“Naughty boy,” Lex says with an amused lilt, “I got you a present but it’s clear you don’t deserve one.”

“’m tied up,” Jason says breathlessly, “Biz just—”

“Try selling that story to someone who doesn’t know you,” Lex dismisses with a wave of his hand as Bizarro presses down on his prostrate harder in retaliation for Jason trying to blame him. Lex takes a sip of his wine before continuing, “I know that the clone is weak to your pleading. And he only touches you after you assure him you can handle the punishment.”

“Daddy please— _ah_!” He gasps as B bears down on that sensitive spot. Jason didn’t know what to make of it when Bizarro asked about including Lex in their bed (even though it’s almost always Luthor’s actual bed they’re in). But he likes the way Biz gets a little jealous, a little rougher, when he calls Lex ‘daddy’ too.

The billionaire looks completely unaffected. If it weren’t for the way his dark eyes watch, captivated by the proceedings, Jason would almost buy the act.

“I suppose punishment can wait. The gift isn’t exactly returnable. Go ahead, clone. Get things moving. He’ll arrive shortly.”

“Yes, sir,” Biz mumbles, still pouting about Jason using _his_ moniker for someone other than him, and removes his fingers.

Jason’s brief thought of _‘he who?_ ’ is driven from his mind with the first hint of pressure at his entrance. The huge cock slides into him easily. They’ve been doing this for a while and, just in the last couple of days, when he wasn’t getting fucked, the plug kept him open. Even so, Jason feels relief at finally having Biz to clench down on.

It starts slow. Deliberate. And it’s only a few minutes before Jason is whining and wriggling around trying to get more.  

Lex seems content to watch for the time being but when Jason manages to pry his eyes open he’s happy to note the very obvious tent in the mogul’s slacks.

“Oh my god!”

The new voice is surprised but not, Jason thinks, in a bad way. It’s also a little familiar, one he’s heard before, just not one he hears often.

“Oh don’t look so scandalized. You knew what this was,” Lex drawls, unconcerned, looking in the direction the voice came from, toward the balcony over Jason’s left shoulder.

“Yeah but you didn’t tell me _who_ —”

“And you agreed without knowing. Honestly, everyone thinks you’re a boy scout but your as perverted as anyone else.”

Jason’s brain stutters. _Boy scout?!_

The visitor doesn’t respond but Bizarro chooses that moment to slam into Jason harder. It catches him by surprise while he’s fantasizing about a Kryptonian sandwich and he comes with a shout.

“Oh my god,” is repeated, but quieter, more awed.

“What are you waiting for, Kent?” Lex snaps right as Jason manages to flutter his lids open enough to get a watery eyeful of fucking Superman standing there staring at him, slack jawed and wide-eyed. “You already have the invitation.”

Superman reaches out and cups his face, thumb caressing across his cheekbone then down his jaw, and when it gets close enough Jason eagerly takes it into his mouth and sucks hard, swirling his tongue around the digit like his life depends on it.

This is something he didn’t know he wanted until this moment. If the thought had ever crossed his mind before, he’d have shut that down as the height of absurdity, a fantasy he was too far removed from to even indulge in.

If goddamn Superman leaves this building without fucking him he will murder Lex in cold blood for getting his hopes up and sleep like a baby afterward.

“I told you,” Lex growls, starting to sound impatient, “Kid’s a slut. Positively begs for it.”

Clark grimaces in distaste at the words but only takes his gaze off Jason’s face long enough to glance up at Bizarro and give him a friendly nod.

Which brings Jason’s attention back to the fact that B hasn’t stopped gently rocking into him.

“Come on, Kent. Time to make up your mind.”

“Does Bruce know?” Clark asks, directing his words over his shoulder and pressing his thumb down on Jason’s tongue. It’s fine, he doesn’t wan to speak, he just wants to _feel_ Superman inside him right fucking now.

“No. But I’ve been dying to find a way to casually drop it into a conversation.” The wicked glee in Luthor’s voice makes Jason want to roll his eyes.

Instead, he shoves his hips back against Bizarro, who chokes a little, and bites down on Clark’s thumb. It won’t do anything, obviously, but he wants the superhero’s attention.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispers after letting the digit slip from his mouth, already breathing heavily after coming, with Bizarro still going at him, heady images flashing through his mind’s eye, “Oh _god_ please… need—need to feel you… _fuck_ … don—don’t even think about leaving… un—until you’ve fucked me…”

Clark’s eyes get even wider while Lex snorts, swirls his wine, and mutters a smug, “Told you.”

It’s very easy for Jason to ignore him.

“Saved your life that one time…” he manages to gasp as Bizarro’s cock catches his prostrate, “O—owe me.”

Superman huffs a laugh and tenderly runs his fingers through Jason’s hair, which he leans into. “You’re right. I do owe you. When Biz is finished—”

Jason’s shaking his head vigorously before he can complete that thought but it’s Luthor who manages to give voice to Jason’s objections with that plan.

“Actually, I think I’d rather enjoy watching you two hulking, super-powered, alien beasts fuck the normal, weak, helpless little human together.”

Jason has lost all use for words and has just started nodding in agreement. The things he is seeing in his head… _christ_ , they’ve already talked about it more than necessary.

He has his eyes squeezed closed so he doesn’t see Clark’s reaction but it much be in his favor because the next thing he knows, Bizarro’s big hands are grabbing onto his the backs of his thighs, just above his knees, and lifting him off his feet. He tries to help by pulling himself up on the bindings still holding his arms together.

“Just relax, my darling,” Biz mummers into his ear, calm and soothing, “Let us do the work.”

“Yeah,” Clark says, mouth suddenly so close he can feel the Kryptonian’s warm breaths on his face, “We’re stronger than you, after all.”

That makes Jason melt into their hold with a moan. He manages to open his eyes a crack just in time to watch Superman close the distance between their mouths. His lips are soft and warm and he tastes like coffee and powdered donuts. Jason works desperately to get more of that sweet, wholesome flavor, but Clark keeps him pinned down, back pressed against Biz’s chest, his own flush to…

Jesus… flush to the ‘S’ shield on the twice-as-broad-as-his-own-chest of fucking Superman’s uniform.

He is unsurprised that Clark is pretty much the exact same size at Bizarro, plenty long enough but mouth-wateringly thick. His eyes are screwed shut again so he didn’t notice when Clark lubed himself up but the head of his cock pressing against Jason’s already stretched and occupied hole is slick and fat.

Jason’s breathing quickens in anticipation as it starts to slowly advance, a finger hooks around his taut rim, tugging gently to allow enough room to get started. Jason moans loudly, throws his head back to thump into Bizarro’s huge pectoral, and tries to shove himself down for more.

Clark’s breath catches. Biz just chuckles.

Jason lost track of Lex a while ago.

It’s the most exquisite pressure he’s ever felt. Yeah, at first it hurts a little. He knows Clark and Biz catch the quiet hitch in his breath at the small pinch of pain in the beginning because they redouble their efforts to not leave a single inch of this neck and shoulders unmarked and Clark goes even slower.

By the time they’re both buried deep, Jason is sweating and mewling. Bizarro hushes him sweetly while Clark kisses his tears away and they start to move.

They don’t speak a word to each other that Jason can hear but they move like they know what the other is thinking. One thrusts in as the other pulls out. They start a moderate pace and keep him firmly held between them, unable to move.

“ _Please_ ,” he manages to sob after what feels like forever, “M—more… harder…”

They don’t have to be told twice. They move more frantically, touches getting even more needy, fingers leaving bruises all over his thighs and hips.

He’s stuffed. So full he feels each thrust in his gut, in his heart, in his throat. He can feel hard muscles tensing all around him as both super-powered aliens fucking his brains out try to hold back the vast portion of their strength, try to stop from accidentally killing him, as they reach their peaks.

“F—fuck, _jesus_ … oh my g-god— come _on_ … fill me up. G-give it to me. Wanna feel your come inside me…”

“Christ,” Clark gasps, thrusts a few more time, harder, bordering too hard in a way that makes Jason cry out in pleasure, then spills into him.

Just like with Bizarro, the force of it is unlike anything a human can manage. Not so powerful that it can kill a person, despite what some of the trashier tabloids would have you believe, but he feels it hit the walls of his passage like a finger jabbing.

He groans in a mix of pleasure and pain as his own cock gives another weak little spurt. Which seems to be what Bizarro needs because a few rough drives later, he too unloads in Jason’s wrecked hole.

When they pull out of him, too soon, he whines at the loss but it quickly turns to a moan as he feels Biz work a huge plug into him. He gives a sigh of contentment. They didn’t have anything that big before. It must be new. Just for this, so that he can keep all their come inside.

All of Superman’s come inside his hole. Mingling with Bizarro’s. And whatever’s left of Lex’s from yesterday.

They snap the leather restraints where they leave him bound but no longer attached to the ceiling. Jason wonders vaguely how they can even be moving after all that. It takes him a moment to realize that while that was testing his limits, it doesn’t even scratch theirs.

He manages to blink his eyes open as he’s gently placed on the floor. He looks right into Lex’s smug, arrogant, smirking face. The ex-villain is flanked by the two supers, has his rock hard cock in one hand, firmly stroking.

With the other he reaches out and grasps Jason’s chin.

“Open up,” he orders.

Immediately, Jason drops his jaw and sticks out his tongue just at Luthor comes all over his face, lapping up whatever he can reach. Then he dutifully leans forward and licks the tip of Lex’s dick, cleaning it of any remaining release.

“Oh my god,” Clark mutters again, staring at Jason like he’s seeing something rare and precious. Bizarro is just smiling at Jason kindly.

He shivers at being the center of their attention.

“What do you say?” Lex hums at him, eyes gleaming dangerously. Like a promise, like this is just the beginning.

“Thank you, daddy,” Jason manages to rasp, voice cracking.

Luthor frowns at him. That wasn’t right. Jason feels like he’s wading through syrup, searching for what Lex wants to hear.

Finally he looks between the three of them.

“Daddies,” he corrects, “Thank you, daddies.”

“Such a good boy. Maybe we can convince Kent to stick around for your punishment.”

Jason closes his eyes and shivers with anticipation and _want_.

He’s optimistic when he hears the boy scout whisper a quiet ‘ _fuck’_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason/Bizarro/Lex Luthor/Superman|Clark Kent


	6. Roman/Jason - Coffee Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman takes Jason on a super awkward coffee date. Then manages to make it weirder.

This wasn’t what Jason expected when Roman asked if he wanted to get something to drink.

  
For one thing, he thought the crime lord was talking about a _real_ drink. Not coffee.

  
For another, when their orders were delivered to the little bistro table they’re sitting at in a dim, back corner, the server not only brought Roman something pumped full of enough sugar to give every single one of Jason’s teeth an instant cavity, but also a lone piece of coffee cake.

  
And two forks.

  
If he didn’t know any better, he’d say this was a date.

  
Roman drones on and on about work, speaking in vague, coded terms so that no one who might overhear them will be any wiser.

  
A wasted effort, Jason thinks. The black leather mask Roman wears is drawing stares from every single person who notices them. But all of them seem like they’re making a real effort to avoid listening. Most are hurriedly finishing whatever’s in front of them and leaving as quickly as possible. Several people walk in, see them, and turn right back around.

  
The people of Gotham know what to do when they see a mask.

  
Mostly Jason just nods and mutters the occasional agreement and tries not to dwell on how fucking weird this is.

  
“You haven’t had any,” Roman points out, indicating the half-eaten square of sugary, cinnamon deliciousness between them with his fork.

  
“Oh…uh, I’m not hungry.”

  
It sounds more like a question, even to him.

  
Roman narrows his eyes. “You don’t sound very sure,” he says, reaching for another bite.

  
Only, instead of eating it, he raises the utensil up to Jason’s mouth.

  
He just stares at the eyes of the inscrutable mask for an awkwardly long moment. The other man’s outstretched arm never wavers.

  
“Really?” He asks, brows raised.

  
“Yes.”

  
He still hesitates. The café is empty now but whether anyone else is witnessing this or not doesn’t change the weirdness of it.

  
“I’m really not hun—“

  
“Eat it, Jason.”

  
He’s surprised when he leans forward immediately and obeys, chewing the fluffy pastry while resolutely not looking at the man across from him.

  
“Good boy,” Roman praises, tone tinged in humor, as he sets the fork down, sits back, and crosses his arms.

  
Jason thinks he does a decent job of not letting the shiver that runs up his spin show outwardly. But he’s definitely worried about the fact that it happened at all.

  
He has no idea what Roman looks like under that mask. He wasn’t 100% sure that the black skull he used to have was his real face, though he always suspected so. But he does know that Black Mask is an asshole, murderer, and all around bad guy. While Roman is a surprisingly suave motherfucker, there’s no excuse for even this single butterfly that’s fluttering around in his stomach.

  
All of a sudden there’s a pressure at his crotch. It takes him longer than it should to realize it’s the sole of Roman’s immaculate, custom hand-made, Italian leather Oxford.

  
It presses harder. Jason hisses, wraps a hand over the top, and tries to pull it away.

  
“What’re you—“

  
“I think it’s time to take our relationship to the next level, sweetheart,” Roman says, as though this is a topic they’ve discussed before, like they have any kind of relationship outside of their already weird work/successor thing.

  
“What relationsh— _Jesus_ …” Jason gasps as Roman starts to roll his ankle, foot undulating in a motion that feels way too good for a public location.

  
“Oh please, Red,” he dismisses, shifting a bit in his seat for better leverage to rub his foot against Jason, “as if you haven’t been a dropping me all kinds of hints like a desperate slut.”

  
“I—what?” Jason doesn’t know what the fuck the bastard is talking about. He pitches forward to brace himself on the table, still trying to tug at the molesting foot.

  
But it’s been a while since he’s been touched by anyone but himself. He’s hard and he can’t stop the little traitorous groan that escapes.

  
“That’s it, pumpkin,” Roman taunts, pressing harder with his toe and shoving his heel into Jason’s balls, “Make a mess in those pants for me.”

  
“St-stop. Roman… don’t…”

  
It comes out too breathless to carry any real intent. Jason can’t see it, but he knows the prick is smirking behind that fucking leather.  
He wishes he had his helmet. He can feel how red his face is.

  
“Come on, baby, we don’t have all day. I’ve got bigger plans for later.”

  
Jason doesn’t think he means the shipment he’d been talking about earlier.

  
The thought isn’t particularly enticing. But neither is it as abhorrent as it should be. After all, it has been a long time.

  
The thought of gloved hands touching his naked skin and the bites from the lipless teeth of the black skull he thinks is behind the mask sends a wave of pleasure through him.

  
Roman gets the mess he wanted.

  
“Splendid,” Black Mask exclaims, standing while Jason tries to catch his breath and figure out what the fuck just happened. “Come along, darling. You’re only one of the many things Daddy has to do today.”


End file.
